Deadly Vows (16 page)

“Once the plane docks, we’re going to move. We’ll be the first to exit. The most dangerous time will be when we exit the airport. Just stick close and let us worry about protecting you,” he said, and Olivia figured he probably thought his words were reassuring.

They weren’t, and she prayed silently as the plane coasted to a stop and docked. Continued praying as she and Ford were hustled through the loading bridge and out into the airport.

Ford wrapped his hand around hers, squeezing gently and offering a smile of encouragement. She tried to smile back, but her lips seemed frozen with dread as they approached an emergency exit guarded by two suited men.

She wanted to hold back, refuse to walk outside, but there was no denying the tide of FBI agents that flowed toward the exit, pulling her along with it.

The door opened silently, letting in cool spring air tinged with exhaust, and Olivia had no choice but to step into the darkness beyond and trust that the God who had kept her safe so far would continue to do so.

F
ord should have felt safe. He didn’t. Despite the armed FBI agents accompanying them, he felt an edge of fear that nearly consumed him. Trusting that the FBI could keep Olivia from harm was about as useful as trusting himself to do it. No matter what safety measures were in place, it seemed the Martinos were able to work around them, gathering information and utilizing it over and over again.

Someone was passing information to them. It fit with what Marshal James had said the day Olivia’s Pine Bluff home had exploded in flames, and it was the only explanation that made sense.

Unfortunately, that meant that Olivia would never be safe. Not until the trial was over. Maybe not even then.

The thought didn’t sit well with Ford, and he tightened his grip on her hand, wishing he could race back into the airport, find a flight to another state, then another country, but even that plan seemed fraught with danger. The Martino crime family didn’t leave loose ends. As long as they thought Olivia might testify against Vincent, they’d hunt her down to try and stop her.

A dark sedan idled a few feet away, and Ford could clearly see two men in the front seat. An armed guard
opened the back door as they approached, his sharp gaze scanning the area. The scene seemed liked something out of a spy thriller, but it was real life. Ford’s life. Olivia’s. The baby’s.

The thought no longer filled him with dread.

He wanted the baby as much as he wanted the life he’d described to Olivia.

Please, Lord, let us have it. Give us that second chance,
he prayed as Olivia slid into the middle of the backseat. An agent was already seated on her far side, and Ford slid in next to her, his pulse racing with adrenaline.

So far, so good. No bullets flying. No cars speeding toward them. Maybe they had flown in under Martino radar.

Maybe.

And maybe the Martino family was biding its time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.

Which would be when? On the road? During the trial? At whatever destination Ford and Olivia were being brought to?

Ford tried to think it through as the car pulled out onto the highway. There wasn’t a whole lot of open road in Chicago, but the driver aimed for the edge of town, driving them out of the city and into suburban sprawl. The road was congested, the traffic heavy and slow moving. Would Martino dare to strike now?

He shifted in his seat, turning to look out the back window.

“We’ve got a car of agents following. If Martino had men waiting at the airport, there’s no sign of them now,” the driver said, and Ford met the man’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

“I wish I were as confident of that as you are.”

“Hey, I’m not saying something can’t go wrong. I’m just saying that for right now we’re in the clear.”

“Where are we going?” Olivia asked, and Ford wondered if she actually thought she’d get an answer. So far, the FBI hadn’t been very forthcoming with information.

“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say, ma’am. We’ve got a ways to go, though, so you may as well make yourself comfortable.”

“And wherever we’re going, we’re going to stay there until the trial? Or will there be another location after this?”

“Sounds like you’ll be staying there. Special Agent McGraw said the prosecuting attorney will probably want to start preparing you for the trial in a few weeks, so we’ll want you close the district office.”

“A few weeks? The trial is scheduled for the end of April. That’s less than three weeks away.”

“It’s been rescheduled for May.”

“Rescheduled? By whom?” Ford broke in, wondering why they hadn’t been informed of the change sooner. Three weeks in protective custody was something he could imagine. A month or more was something he didn’t even want to consider.

“My guess would be the prosecuting attorney, but who knows? All I know is what I’ve been told. The trial is in May. Not April.”

“I’d like to speak with McGraw about that.”

“You’re welcome to contact him as soon as we reach the safe house. As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was there to meet us. Seems to me, he had some things he wanted to say to you, too.”

Ford had no doubt about that. He’d spoken to McGraw briefly before he was questioned by the Cody police. The special agent had made no bones about his irritation. He’d
expected Olivia and Ford to follow orders and to stay put. Which proved that he didn’t know much about either of them.

“I’ll be happy to hear whatever it is McGraw wants to say to me
after
he explains why the trial date has been moved.”

“That’s between you and Special Agent McGraw. My only concern is getting you to the safe house in one piece,” the agent responded, frowning into the rearview mirror. “Looks like we’ve got company coming.”

The agent sitting beside Olivia glanced back and Ford did the same. A dark car kept pace a few car lengths behind their vehicle, and at first Ford thought that was the company that was being referred to. Then he noticed the white work van. Dirty and neglected, it didn’t look like much and wouldn’t have been noticeable at all if it hadn’t been moving quickly through the waning traffic. Five cars away. Then four. It pulled up beside the dark car, swerved sideways, nearly forcing the other vehicle off the road.

Seconds later, it swerved again, this time sideswiping the smaller vehicle. The car spun away, slamming into a cement divider.

Someone cursed, the sound sharp and harsh, and Olivia tensed, pivoting so that she could see the approaching van. “Dear God, help us.”

Ford heard her whispered prayer above the sound of their driver shouting into his radio, above the pounding of his heart, above his own petitions to God. It echoed in his head as the driver accelerated, speeding through the remaining traffic and trying to put distance between their car and the van.

It wasn’t going to work.

Ford could have told the agent that.

All the defensive driving in the world couldn’t prevent
what was about to happen. Despite its neglected appearance, the van seemed to pick up speed with ease, bearing down on the car without any effort.

“Give us some more gas!” The agent beside Olivia shouted, and the car pulled ahead of the van again. Not by much, and not enough. Ford braced himself, throwing his arm around Olivia’s shoulders as the van rammed into the bumper of their car, propelling it forward.

Olivia screamed, her terror filling the car, mixing with the sound of mumbled curses, the harsh shouts coming from the radio.

“Hold on!” the driver shouted, braking hard as he swerved to shoulder. The van shot past, then squealed to a stop. The back door flew open, and several men spilled out onto the road, guns in hands, weapons already firing.

Glass exploded and the driver of the car slumped over the steering wheel, the long high-pitched moan of the horn filling the car. The agent beside Olivia threw open the door, ducking low, the crack of his weapon joining the horn’s mournful cry.

More glass exploded, and Ford shoved Olivia down, covering her with his body as the agent in the front seat pushed his door open, joining his comrade in the gunfight.

Ford’s ears rang from the sound of gunfire and from the blaring horn, and he could no longer tell where the shots were coming from. The FBI agents? Martino’s hired guns?

The agent closest to Ford, flew back, landing in a heap on the ground, his gun clattering a few inches away. Ford needed that gun. It was Olivia’s only chance.

He pressed his mouth close to her ear, nearly shouting to be heard about the cacophony of noise. “I’ve got to get a weapon or we’re not going to make it out of this alive.”

“What are you talking about? You’re not going out there,” she shouted in reply, shifting so that she could look up into his face. Her skin was chalk-white, her eyes so blue it almost hurt to look at them, and Ford knew he would do anything to keep her safe.

“I don’t have a choice. Stay down,” he said, gently pushing her back down. “And, whatever you do, don’t move!”

If she responded, he didn’t hear, he was too focused on his goal—get out of the car, get the gun, make sure that he had some way of protecting Olivia.

He slipped out of the car, ducking behind the open door and staying low as he ran to the fallen agent. He didn’t have time to check for a pulse or administer first aid. Not with bullets still flying. He reached for the gun, flying backward as something slammed into his chest. High. To the right.

You’re still alive, so keep moving.

The command echoed through his head, filled mind, and he obeyed, reaching for the gun again. Lifting it, pivoting hard on his knees. No time for pain. No time for losing consciousness. There was too much at stake. Olivia. The baby.

Strobe lights flashed, doors slammed.

Backup arriving?

Ford didn’t know. Couldn’t take the time to look. Someone was running toward him, running toward the car, aiming a gun at the open door and the seat where Olivia lay. He didn’t think. Didn’t worry about the ramifications of what he was going to do. Just aimed and fired, watching as the assailant fell.

Olivia.

Ford wanted to shout her name, but could get nothing past the hot, coppery taste in his mouth. He stumbled to his feet, his head swimming, the gun dropping from his
hand. The gunfire had ceased, and other sounds filled the sudden stillness. Voices shouting. Car doors slamming. The incessant horn still screaming.

Ford barely heard them. His focus was on the car. On Olivia.

Was she okay?

“Livy?” He managed to rasp out as he peered into the car. To his relief, she sat up, her face streaked with tears.

He reached for her, pulling her from the car and into his arms. “It’s okay, Liv. It’s over.”

“Don’t ever do that again, Ford. Ever.”

“If it means the difference between you living and dying, I’ll do it again a hundred times.”

“What about you living or dying? You could have been killed? If I didn’t have the baby to think about, I’d have gone out and pulled you back into the car by your hair.” She stepped out of his arms, and he swayed, the world spinning a little with her movement.

“You’re hurt,” she said, her hand pressing against his chest, her eyes swimming with more tears.

“I’ll be okay.”

“You’re bleeding badly, Ford. Sit down. I’ve got to get help.” She slipped an arm around his waist, urging him to the car.

He planned to tell her that he didn’t need help, but his legs had other ideas and he slid into the car. It was that or collapse onto the ground.

Olivia started to move away, but he grabbed her hand, holding her in place. “Stay here. The police will figure out that it’s safe and move in soon enough. The last thing I want is for them to mistake you for a bad guy and start shooting.”

“Do you really think I’m going to sit here and watch you
bleed to death while we wait for the police and FBI to figure things out?”

“I’m not going to die,” he said, gritting his teeth as pain shot through his chest.

“Like the FBI wasn’t going to let the Martinos find us again? Sorry, I’m not going to take any chances that you’re wrong.” She pulled her hand from his, leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “Be okay, Ford, because I really don’t want to raise our baby alone.”

“You don’t have to worry, Livy. I’m too ornery to die,” he said, but the world was spinning and blackness was edging in.

“You’d better be,” she said, her lips brushing his again before she backed out of the car.

He wanted to grab her dress, force her to stay with him, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. Searing pain shot through his chest again, stealing his breath, nearly stealing his consciousness. Maybe the wound was worse than he thought. Maybe he
was
going to die, but he’d accomplished his goal. Olivia was alive. The baby was. God had intervened once again, protecting the only woman Ford had ever loved. Protecting the child they’d conceived. Whether he lived or died, at least Ford had that.

But there was so much more that he wanted.

Just a chance, Lord. A chance to do things Your way instead of mine. A chance to cherish the gifts You’ve given me. Olivia. Our baby.

Just a chance.

The prayer was still running through his mind as more pain exploded through his chest and the darkness that had been threatening blocked his vision, shutting out his thoughts, his fears, his hopes until there was nothing but
darkness and the gentle touch of lips on his forehead, the softness of fingers resting against his neck, the warmth of tears dropping onto his cheek.

Olivia?

Or just a trick of the darkness?

Ford didn’t know, couldn’t care as the blackness carried him farther away from the car and from his pain.

O
livia paced the length of the small waiting room for what seemed like the hundredth time, ignoring the concerned look of the FBI agent who was standing guard by the door. She didn’t care if her endless pacing was causing him concern, didn’t care if it wore holes in the rug. All she cared about was Ford and the fact that he’d been in surgery for five hours and there was still no word from the doctor.

“Pacing isn’t going to get your husband out of surgery any sooner, Ms. Jarrod. Why don’t you sit down? Let me send someone to get you something to eat and drink?” The agent suggested, his green eyes searching Olivia’s face as if he expected her to break down at any moment.

“I’m fine. Thanks for offering, though,” she responded, her voice having an edge of irritation that had nothing to do with the agent’s question and everything to do with fear and worry.

What was taking so long?”

The surgeon had said three or four hours. Not five or six. Was Ford okay? Had something gone wrong? Had he…

She refused to go there. Refused to even contemplate the possibility that Ford had died on the operating table.

A soft knock sounded on the door, and the agent motioned Olivia back as he pulled it open.

Olivia tensed, expecting to see the surgeon, wondering if she’d be able to know Ford’s fate by simply reading the doctor’s face. But instead of the gray-haired surgeon, a tall, dark-haired man walked in. Broad-shouldered and confident, he was someone Olivia hadn’t seen in almost four months, but she recognized him immediately.

“Jackson.” She stepped toward him, her heart sinking as she looked into his face. “What is it? Has something happened to Ford?”

“As far as I know, he’s holding his own,” Jackson responded, his gaze somber and filled with so much compassion Olivia’s eyes filled with tears. She refused to let them fall. If she did, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stop them again.

“Then why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because I owe you an apology. Tonight shouldn’t have happened. We fell short on our job of protecting you. I blame myself for that.”

“Why? You’re not the only one who was responsible for keeping me safe.”

“But I
am
the one who looked you in the eye in December and told you that we’d make sure the Martino family couldn’t get to you.”

“You did your best. The agents that were with us tonight, they did everything they could to protect me. I wish…” Olivia’s voice broke and she couldn’t continue.

“They knew the risk going into this, and they knew their duty.”

“Are they…” She couldn’t make herself say what she was thinking. Had the agents who’d fought to protect her, given their lives to keep her safe?

“Two are in the hospital. One didn’t make it.”

“I’m so sorry.” She tried to fight back tears, but they fell anyway, spilling down her cheeks and onto her shirt. She was too tired to wipe them away.

“Me, too. Come on,” he said, taking her arm. “Let’s sit down and chat about what happens next.”

“I’m not in the frame of mind for sitting or chatting,” Olivia said, but she allowed herself to be led to the small sofa that stood against one wall.

“I’m not, either, but it’s got to be done.” McGraw dropped onto the sofa and motioned for Olivia to do the same. He looked tired and slightly haggard, as if the day had aged him.

“Jackson, I can’t tell you how sorry I am for what your agency has lost tonight. What those agents’ families have lost.”

“We were fortunate to only lose one man tonight. But one man is one too many, and we are all grieving his loss.”

“Please tell his family…” What? What could possibly be said that could make his death more palatable? Nothing. Olivia knew it, but continued anyway, desperate to offer them some small bit of comfort. “Tell them he was a true hero.”

“I already have,” Jackson said, running a hand over his hair.

“Do you know how it happened? How the Martinos knew we’d arrived in Chicago?”

“If I knew that, I’d be a lot happier. Right now, I’m leaning toward believing that they heard you’d left Billings and were staking out the airport expecting that you’d arrive back in Chicago eventually.”

“So no matter when we arrived, we wouldn’t have been safe,” Olivia said, more to herself than to Jackson, but he nodded.

“It seems that might be the case, but we’re investigat
ing and will hopefully know more soon. For now, we’ve got armed guards stationed outside this room and your husband’s. We’ve also got patrols outside the hospital. No one will get to you again.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

“This time you can believe it.”

“There’s a leak in the system somewhere, Jackson. Until you find it—”

“You’ll be safe. There is no doubt about that. Only a handful of men know you’re here. All of them were handpicked for the job of protecting you. I’d trust any of them with my life. But that’s not what I came here to discuss. I wanted to talk to you about Martino’s trial.”

“I heard it had been postponed.”

“Until the beginning of May. Not too far off from when we’d originally planned it.”

“I guess there’s a reason for that.”

“We’re continuing to build the case against Vincent Martino.”

“Build the case against him? I watched him murder a man in cold blood!”

“And your testimony is vital to the state’s case, but the state’s attorney general is waiting on more forensic evidence.”

“I was hoping to get the trial over with sooner rather than later.”

“We were all hoping for that, but the last thing we want is to go to trial and lose.”

“Do you think that’s possible?” The idea of Vincent Martino wandering Chicago as a free man made Olivia shudder.

“No, but he’s weaseled out of too many charges for us to take anything for granted. We have a good witness.
We’ve got forensic evidence. We just need to make sure our case is air tight. I know an extra couple of weeks under our protection isn’t what you want, but I hope you’ll continue to cooperate with us.”

“Another couple of weeks isn’t going to kill me.” She hoped.

“Good. Once your husband is out of surgery, we’ll escort you to his room. You’ll stay there under armed protection until he’s ready to leave the hospital.”

“And then?”

“We’ll move you to FBI headquarters where you’ll stay until the trial.”

“That sounds…comfortable.”

“It will be,” he said, offering a tired smile. “And it will be a lot safer than moving you to a safe house in the area. The Martino family didn’t become as powerful as it is by being foolish. No way will they launch an attack on our district office.”

“They attacked an armed vehicle.”

“The men in that van weren’t part of the Martino family. They were hired guns too stupid to know the kind of mistake they were making. The Martinos are smarter than that. They’ll bide their time, wait until they think they have a chance of being successful. Then they’ll strike.”

“I don’t think I like the sound of that.”

“Me, neither. The good news is, they’re not going to have an opportunity to strike. Security is so tight around you and Ford that no one is going to get within a mile of you without me knowing about it.”

“A mile?”

“An exaggeration, but not much of one. We
will
keep you safe, Olivia. You have my word on it.”

Olivia wanted to believe him, could almost hope that this time Jackson was right and that she really would be safe.

Someone knocked on the door, and Jackson stood, following the other agent to the door.

Both men stepped back as Ford’s surgeon walked in. Still dressed in blood stained scrubs, his salt-and-pepper hair mussed, he looked more upbeat than tired, and Olivia’s heart leaped.

Hope she hadn’t even dared feel welled up as she stood and hurried across the room. “How is he?”

“Better than he’s got a right to be. The bullet was lodged millimeters from a major artery.”

“But he’s going to be okay?”

“Barring any unforeseen complications, your husband should make a full recovery.”

“Thank you, so much!” Olivia threw herself at the unsuspecting doctor, but he didn’t seem to mind the bear hug she offered.

When she finally had the good sense to release her hold and step back, he smiled. “I’m not the only one you should be thanking. There was an entire team of people in the operating room, and I’m not convinced we were the only ones there. I’ve seen gunshot wounds less serious than your husband’s take a life. Some people would say he’s lucky, I say he’s blessed.”

“He is,” Olivia said, smiling past tears of relief. “When can I see him?”

“He’s in recovery, so I’ll have the nurse come get you. I’m afraid your entourage will have to wait outside the room. We only allow one visitor at a time,” he said, shooting a glance at the two agents.

“No problem, but have the nurse close the window
shades before Ms. Jarrod enters the room,” Jackson responded, and the surgeon nodded.

“I’ll let her know. The last thing we want is another gunshot wound to treat. I’ll be around for a while longer just in case there’s post-op bleeding, but if I don’t see you before I leave, I’ll check in with you in the morning, Ms. Jarrod.”

“Thank you again, doctor.”

And thank
You,
God. Thank You.

The prayer chanted through Olivia’s mind as the surgeon exited the room and was still there as a nurse arrived. A prayer of praise and of hope and filled with more joy than Olivia had ever felt.

Ford was alive. He’d make a full recovery.

And they would get through the trial.

They would begin a new life together.

She had to believe that. Had to hold on to it.

It only took a few minutes for Olivia’s FBI guards to coordinate themselves, but it seemed like an eternity. She paced the small waiting room a few more times, anxious to see her husband. As reassured as she was by the surgeon’s words, she wanted to see for herself that Ford had survived.

Finally, Jackson motioned for Olivia to step out of the waiting room. Several agents surrounded her as she was hurried down the hall and into an elevator. She couldn’t see past the wall of bodies, but if she could she was sure she’d see curiosity in the eyes of everyone they passed. Pressed in on all sides, she felt like a prisoner, but being a prisoner was a whole lot better than being dead, and she didn’t complain.

The nurse walking beside Olivia seemed unfazed by the procession, her sharp gaze raking over each of the agents
in turn. “Gotta say, I wouldn’t mind being surrounded by this group of men every day for the rest of my life.”

Her comment surprised a laugh out of Olivia. “You might if you knew that they were the only thing standing between you and death.”

“Don’t know about that. They’re one good-looking group of men. They can be my bodyguards any day.”

Olivia wasn’t sure, but she thought one of the agents actually blushed. It was almost enough to take her mind off of Ford.

Almost.

“Is my husband awake, Nurse…”

“Just call me Rachel. Everyone does. And your man is awake. Awake and asking for you. He must love you something fierce because he was calling your name before he even came out of anesthesia. Me? If I had a man like that, I wouldn’t be commenting on the good looks of your personal body guards. I’d be like you, wanting to ditch the crowd and have some quality alone time with my guy.”

Now it was Olivia’s turn to blush.

“Ford is a good man.”

A man who’d saved her life.

Just the thought made Olivia’s stomach churn. When he’d told her he was going for a weapon, she’d wanted desperately to jump from the car and pull him back in. Only the thoughts of the fragile life she carried had kept her from doing so.

“Now, listen, dear heart, your husband is looking a little rough around the edges,” Rachel said as they approached a door at the end of the hall. Two armed police officers were seated in chairs on either side of it. Olivia wasn’t sure, but she thought a man leaning against a wall a few feet away might be an undercover officer.

Jackson had been telling the truth. The FBI wasn’t taking any chances, and no expense was being spared to keep Olivia and Ford safe. For the first time in a long time, she felt safe.

“If you’d rather wait to see him after he’s feeling a little better, it’s okay. He told me about the pregnancy, and he’s worried something fierce that you’re overdoing things. Tried to tell him we women were made of hardier stock than the average man, but he’d have none of it. So, I’ve got to ask, you ready for this? Or would you rather rest up a little before you go in?” Rachel asked, her sharp eyes suddenly soft with concern.

“I’m fine. I want to see him,” Olivia hurried to assure her, anxious to step into the room, to see that Ford really was going to be okay.

“You ever seen someone hooked up to machines, tubes coming out of his chest?”

“No.”

“Me? I’ve seen more than one person pass out after seeing a loved one hooked to machines. We don’t want to be scraping you off the floor.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“I thought you would, but I had to mention it. I’ve already closed the curtains. You ready to go see your husband?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s get this show on the road,” Rachel said, pushing the door open. Olivia took a step to follow, stopping short when an agent put a hand on her shoulder, holding her in place.

“Let one of us go in first. Just to be sure.”

“There’s two armed guards—”

“Procedure, Olivia,” Jackson cut in. “It’s just an extra measure of precaution.”

And the sooner she shut up and let them do their job the quicker she’d be in the room with Ford. Olivia nodded and waited impatiently as one of the men followed the nurse into the room.

“All clear,” he said as he returned, nodding at one of the two police officers. Neither looked happy to have the FBI double-checking their efforts, but they had the good grace not to say anything. Not that Olivia would have hung around to listen to the conversation.

She hurried into the dimly lit room, her pulse racing with anxiety. The hum of machines and gentle beep of a heart monitor were the only sound, and she approached the bed quietly. Ford lay still, his eyes closed. A thick blanket covered him from the shoulders down. Blond hair dull, his skin ashen, it seemed that the vitality that made Ford who he was had drained out of him, and for a moment Olivia thought she was looking at someone else’s husband.